


Someone's Halls Are Getting Decked

by starscrearn



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Holiday Mishaps, Lost Light Holidays, M/M, kind of an AU where things aren't as messed up i guess, liberties taken with holiday traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-14 18:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starscrearn/pseuds/starscrearn
Summary: It's that time of year! But only kind of, because, y'know, space. But the good friends of the Lost Light don't really care--it's time to unwind, let off some steam, and totally not wreck the holidays.





	1. Twelve Days of Chaos?

The garland fell in the worst possible place, draping itself almost festively around Ultra Magnus’s shoulders, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the bit that got caught on his helm. Oh, and the fact that it was on  _ Ultra Magnus. _

He coughed.

Swerve froze. Rung, who’d just been interrupted by the avatar of organization, nearly tripped over him.

Ultra Magnus pulled the banner off of his head. “What is this?”

“Holiday banner, sir!” Swerve supplied.

“It’s a hazard like this. Get it fixed. What holiday?”

Rung deposited his armload of lights on the nearest table and turned back to Ultra Magnus. “A variety of them, actually. Many planets are reaching the end of their solar cycles around this time, and many have holidays in celebration of this. Given the recent events, we thought it would be good to give the crew a chance to unwind.”

“Then why use alien holidays?”

“It allows for a slightly looser interpretation, and it allows the crew to experience something different.”

Behind Ultra Magnus, the rest of the garland quietly fell off the wall. Swerve winced.

“As long as it doesn’t get out of hand.”

“It won’t,” Rung assured him. “Which reminds me, do you have a spare copy of the Autobot Code? I’d like to have a look and make sure what we have planned falls within the guidelines.” He knew Ultra Magnus would double (and possibly triple) check his work, but it was the least he could do.

“Of course. I’ll send it over.”

Once Ultra Magnus left, Rung sighed and went to retrieve the garland. 

Swerve followed, peering over his shoulder. “Was it the hooks?”

“I think so. When the first one gave way, it seems the weight of the garland dragged the rest down. Could you call Skids? This will be much easier with his help.”

“Orrrr… you could call  _ your _ courtmate.” Swerve grinned cheekily up at him.

Rung shook his head. “Megatron and I are not in a relationship.”

Swerve’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “You and--oh, man. No  _ way. _ ”

Safe behind the lenses of his glasses, the psychiatrist offlined his optics as the realization hit that Swerve had been on a fishing trip. “Swerve--”

“Hey, there’s nothing to tell. Not if you two aren’t, y’know, a  _ thing. _ ”

“We aren’t,” he confirmed, making a mental note to comm Megatron as soon as the opportunity arose and explain.

“Y’know, that’s honestly a shame, Doc. You two might make a good pair. If anyone can keep him in line, I’m pretty sure it’s you.”

Rung lifted an eyebrow. “Really? What makes you say that?”

“ ‘Cause he listens to you. Practically more than he listens to anyone else, except Ultra Magnus, but pretty much everyone listens to him, because he’s Ultra Magnus. He’s got that kind of voice.”

He considered this for a moment. “You’re a lot more perceptive than people give you credit for, Swerve.”

“Nah, I’m just a good bartender. It goes with the territory.”

“That’s true, but it goes beyond that with you. Your ability for observation is quite impressive.”

Swerve smiled and shrugged, looking almost uncomfortable. “Heh… thanks, Rung. I’ll call Skids.”

“Thank  _ you _ .”

\---

When Skids arrived, he had a copy of the Autobot manual under his arm and a confused look plastered across his face. “Ultra Magnus just… handed this to me?” 

Swerve grinned and hopped up to greet him. “Yeah, it’s for--hey, Rung! Your book’s here!”

Rung emerged from the back room with another bushel of lights draped over his arm. “And I’ve found the rest of the lights. We should have enough now. Good morning, Skids. How are you?”

“I’m doing alright, Eyebrows. What did you want with this?” He gestured with the datapad.

The psychiatrist dropped the lights on the table with the rest of them and retrieved the datapad from Skids. “Just checking our plans. We’re trying to make sure things don’t get too out of hand.”

“On this ship? Good luck with that.” But Skids was smiling. “How can I help?”

Swerve gestured to the pile of fake needles and tinsel that he’d dumped unceremoniously into a chair. “Wanna help me get the garland back up?”

“I can’t believe you only want me for my grappling hook.”

“Nah, just for your height.” The bartender winked. “C’mon, help a bot out.”

As they turned towards the door, gently bickering, Rung’s scheduling program pinged a reminder at him. He straightened up and tucked the datapad under his arm. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you two here, I have an appointment to get to.”

Swerve called out a “Good luck!” as Skids replied, “We’ll be here when you get back,” and Rung left with a smile on his face.

\---

Whirl was waiting for him outside his office, tapping one pede against the ground. “ ‘snot like you to be late, Eyebrows. You got a little… somethin’ somethin’ going on?”

Rung sighed. “Hello to you too, Whirl. I was at Swerve’s, helping him with the holiday decorations. Unfortunately, we had a little mishap with the garland and lost track of time.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up.  _ Holiday _ decorations? And ya didn’t tell  _ me?” _

“We only started putting them up today.” Rung tapped in the door code and stepped into his office. The lights cut on automatically and slowly brightened as Whirl followed him in and dropped himself onto one of the couches. 

“Watcha planning?”

“I don’t know the full extent of it myself--Swerve’s the one behind it. I’m just lending a hand where I can, but we could always use more, if you’d like to join us.”

Whirl shrugged with a rattle of puffed-out plating. “Eh, I might.”

“Just come to Swerve’s if you’d like to join in. Now…” Rung set the datapad on his desk and settled into his chair. “Have you been doing the exercises we talked about last time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be trying to update this as often as possible to get it all done by the end of the year. I know some holidays have already/are about to start, so if you've got any holiday traditions yourself you'd like to see the crew...er, experience, please feel free to tell me about them!
> 
> The second chapter will probably be up this afternoon, or early tomorrow. I'm planning on keeping these short.
> 
> As always, any comments, questions, or suggestions are very welcome! Enjoy, and I'll see you next chapter!


	2. Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree

“Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for this session.”

Whirl was up before Rung was, bouncing gently on his pedes, ready to be on his way. Sitting still wasn’t hard, but it was easier to keep moving. Rung uncrossed his legs and rose to walk him to the door like he always did. 

“Same time next week?”

“Sure thing, Eyebrows.” He was out the door before Rung could say anything else. Pedes tapped against the floor and led him to Swerve’s. He traipsed into the bar and propped himself on a barstool before Skids and Swerve, still occupied with the garlands, noticed him.

Skids eyed the ‘copter. “What are you doing here?”

“Eyebrows said ya needed help.”

“Well, I think we’ve got the garlands under control, and we’re going to take off for a bit. But you could give Tailgate a hand with putting up the tree.”

Whirl snorted and heaved himself off the stool as Skids and Swerve left. “Sounds like fun.”

The fake tree was easy enough to get up--just adjust the holomatter projector and turn it on. In about a minute they had a tree that felt as real and solid as anything you’d find on an organic planet, but considerably larger.

“So why the hell do we even have this?”

Tailgate didn’t exactly have a mouth either, but a brightening of his optical output and a cheerful lilt to his voice had the same effect as a smile. “Swerve found it! We’re gonna decorate it. Eventually we’ll get the whole crew to bring something to put on it.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Because it’ll be fun! And it’ll look even nicer in here when we’re done. Can you grab those ornaments?” Tailgate gestured to the boxes on the tables behind him.

“We should stick Eyebrows up there,” Whirl muttered, handing over a short stack of boxes.

“What? Why?”

“ ‘Cause--y’know what, never mind. Just stick these up there instead.” 

There was just one problem: there was a whole lot of fake tree and not a whole lot of Tailgate.

Whirl looked down at him. “I could lift ya, y’know.”

“I know! But I want Cyclonus to see this too.” Tailgate tipped his helm, clearly in the process of sending a private comm to Cyclonus. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Whirl slumped, putting a little too much pressure on the tree. It creaked ominously and he smacked at it. Something cracked, and when he stepped back to get a better look at the damn thing, it crashed to the ground, right on top of Tailgate, flattening him. Amazingly, the projection didn’t short out.

Whirl’s optic shot wide. “Oh, slag.”

“I’m okay!”

“Er--” He crouched down to offer Tailgate his claw and fish him out from under the tree.

A low growl announced Cyclonus’s presence. Well, the growl and the pointy digits that clamped down around Whirl’s shoulder and yanked him away from the toppled tree. Whirl went flying across the bar. He picked himself up in time to see Cyclonus push the tree back into place and gently pull Tailgate up and close to his chest. He set the minibot on a stool and turned back to Whirl.

“No, Cyclonus, it’s okay, he didn’t mean to.”

But Whirl was already bouncing forward. “You wanna fight me? Let’s do this.” And he launched himself, claws coming down to scrape across Cyclonus’s plating. A few minutes later it was obvious Cyclonus wasn’t really fighting him, just kind of pushing him away, which didn’t really help his mood. He picked a stool and flung it in what he thought was Cyclonus’s general direction.

A yelp from Tailgate told him he’d gotten that wrong too. Cyclonus caught the chair before it could actually hit the minibot and hurled it back at Whirl.

“You wanted a fight?”

“Slag, yeah. So square up.”

And he charged.

\---

Some time later he heard a yell that didn’t belong to Tailgate, Cyclonus, or himself.

“Whirl! Cyclonus! Enough!”

The fight screeched to a halt.

Rung stood in the doorway, arms folded, one eyebrow raised, mouth set into a thin line. As usual, he didn’t look just angry, just disappointed. Slowly Cyclonus and Whirl let go of each other. Whirl watched as Rung’s helm tipped slightly as he took in what had been done to the inside of Swerve’s and took a quick glance around himself.

Yeah, things had gotten a little out of hand. Tables and chairs had been shoved out of the way and the decorations that had yet to be put up had been thrown into total disarray. The delicate strings of lights had gotten turned into one big knot. And in the middle of it all stood Whirl and Cyclonus. Whirl drooped.

But hey, the garland over the door had stayed up this time.

Rung sighed and shook his head. “I’ll fix things here. I think you two have seen enough of each other for a while. Why don’t you all head out?”

Cyclonus scooped Tailgate off his stool and they left together. Whirl hung back, bouncing lightly on his pedes.

“Hey--Eyebrows.”

“Yes?”

He almost apologized. “Nah, frag it. Good luck.”

“Thank you. And Whirl, please be careful with the tree next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to tentatively say I'll have a chapter up every day or every other day until this is done, whenever that ends up being.
> 
> As always, any comments, questions, or suggestions are very welcome! Enjoy, and I'll see you next chapter!


	3. Megatron Is Coming To Town

Rung supposed they were fortunate that the ornaments weren’t up when the tree came down. And none of the furniture was broken this time. Last week the bar hadn’t been so lucky. The knotted lights gave him pause--how had those even gotten involved in the fight?--before he decided that some questions were better left unanswered.

He stepped behind the bar and pressed a pair of buttons on the music player Swerve kept under the counter. Holiday music swelled into the air, effectively covering the clicking of his own joints as he got to work putting the room back in order. The chairs and tables were easy to sort out. He designated a pair of tables for decorations, so he had a general target at which to toss the bits and baubles that wouldn’t break.

After a bit of desperately searching for something else to do, Rung had to admit to himself that he was merely putting off untangling the lights. He sighed and took a seat.

An hour later, there was still no sign of Swerve--or Skids--and Rung suspected there wouldn’t be for some time yet. But he had the lights untangled and laid neatly over the tables. If he was careful, he’d have enough to string them back and forth across the ceiling.

Rung just hoped Swerve had a ladder tall enough stashed in the back room.

Of course, he could comm-- No, he’d expressed a firm disinterest in anything to do with the holiday preparations, and Rung was going to respect that. Ladder it was. After a few minutes of digging around, he located it and hauled it out, propping it up by the wall. The lights got draped over one arm, and up he went, pleasantly surprised to find the ceiling easily within reach.

He’d crossed the room with the lights once and was on his way back when it happened. Rung felt the ladder slip sideways as he leaned forward. He dropped the string of lights with a yelp and clutched at the sides of the ladder, bracing himself for the inevitable fall.

But it didn’t come. He warily unshuttered his optics and forced his shoulders down from their position by his audials.

“Careful, Doctor,” a deep voice remarked. “We can’t have you falling. The ship would be lost without you.”

Rung chuckled and relaxed his grip, fingers shaking as the moment of fear passed. “And it would seem that I’d be lost without _you._ You have impeccable timing, Captain.”

“I was in the area.” With a smile, Megatron started to help him off of the ladder. “Do you come here often?”

He gently smacked his shoulder. “Oh, stop it, you. I’d be in here a lot less often if things would stay up. And that would be _much_ easier with some help… but I’m afraid I don’t know any willing bots with the time to spare. I don’t suppose you do?"

“I think I know one who could be persuaded.”

“Oh, you do?” Rung lifted an eyebrow. “So if I asked _very_ nicely, do you think he’d agree?”

“Most definitely.”

“Well, in that case…” He almost smirked as he dumped the lights into Megatron’s hands. “Help me get these up before the opening, would you?”

“I should have known I’d end up getting roped into this one way or another.”

“Yes, you really should have just joined us from the start,” Rung agreed.

Megatron glanced from the ceiling to the lights to Rung. “Hmm… if you were on my shoulders, do you think you could reach? It would be easier than moving the ladder, if you’re comfortable with it.”

“I think I could. It’s worth a shot, in any case. Do you, um, want to just lift me, then?”

“Would you be alright with that?”

Rung nodded, and a moment later he was in the air, perched on his courtmate’s broad shoulders.

“How’s the view?” Megatron joked, passing him the end of the lights.

“Not bad, but it’ll be much prettier with the lights up. Thank you.” He fixed the end to the ceiling. “We just need to make these even with the first ones, if you would, please.”

Megatron nodded and advanced, and they soon fell into an easy, silent rhythm. It gave them ample time to appreciate the song that came on next. It was something from Earth, Rung knew that much.

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light. From now on, our troubles will be out of sight…_

Rung nearly dropped the lights for the second time that night.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm? Yes, I’m fine. Just a momentary lapse.”

_Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore… Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us, once more…_

Megatron shifted almost uncomfortably under him, convinced momentarily that Rung would somehow _hear_ his racing spark. Rung was somewhat too busy to notice, even if he could, distracted as he was with similar concerns and silently hoping the song would end. Without either one saying a word, they seemed to come an agreement to finish up the lights as fast as possible.

Megatron helped Rung back down off his shoulders some time later. “Shall we test the lights?”

“Please.”

Megatron cut the overhead lights and Rung switched on the strings of lights. They blinked softly to life, bathing the bar in a gentle light that had the place looking almost magical.

Another slow song came on as they drew back together. Megatron froze. Rung laid a hand on his arm and let it slide down to the mech’s hand, gently guiding him into a clear area.

Half a moment passed before Rung pinged his private comm. **::** Would you care to dance? **::**

In response, Megatron set his hand on Rung’s hip and turned him, catching the beat of the music. **::** Would you care to lead? **::**

And so he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone saw them, but who? And what _have_ Swerve and Skids been getting up to? Find out next chapter!
> 
> (btw, Megatron isn't Rung's patient and never is/was in this. Figured I'd toss that out there, just in case it wasn't clear.)
> 
> This chapter has been brought to you by smooth Christmas jazz and exhaustion, so if I've made any errors, please point them out! As always, any comments are greatly appreciated.


	4. Interlude: Swerve, Flüganologists Don’t Exist

Swerve dragged Skids off right after Whirl arrived. “C’mon, c’mon, I’ve got something to show you.”

Skids noted the direction they were headed. “In your habsuite?”

“Yup.”

“Do I get a hint?”

“Nope!”

Skids threw his hands up and followed, laughing.

Swerve punched in the keycode but paused before palming on the lights. “Close your eyes? And don’t open them until I say to!”

He did. “Can I come in the room?”

Instead of a reply, he got blocky red fingers over his wrist, carefully tugging him inside. The door slid shut behind him.

“Okay, wait there for just a minute. I’ve gotta get something ready first.”

“Alright.”

“And no peeking! I know you’re thinking about it!”

Skids grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Swerve rustled around a bit. It sounded like he was opening boxes and setting out their contents.

“You can look now.”

Skids opened his eyes and was greeting with one smiling minibot and the oddest assortment of objects he’d ever seen on someone’s berth. They were about the size where you’d probably need two hands to carry them. They had stems, and most of them were widely ridged. They looked like something you’d probably find on an organic planet. They were painted in red and green, with several blue and white ones mixed in. A few were striped. One was dotted. About half of them were dusted in glitter. The stems were painted in either silver or gold, depending on the color of the rest of them.

“Swerve… what _are_ those?”

“Those are Scandawhovanian Holiday Flügans,” Swerve replied proudly. “From Earth.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“They’re for the bar. I’m gonna put them on the tables.”

“And these floogans… do they just grow like this?”

“Not really. They’re orange when they first sprout, but if they survive long enough, they start turning all these different colors.” Swerve hooked a thumb at the flügans. “These are pretty mature, for flügans, especially since they’re in less-than-ideal conditions. But they’ll last through the holidays.”

“Okay. Uh… Swerve? Why do I smell paint?”

Swerve burst out laughing and waved a hand that Skids now realized was covered in tiny multicolored paint splotches. “I really thought you were going to be onto me from the start! I was up most of the night cycle painting these things. Wanna help me finish? I’ve got two more boxes.”

“Sure.” Skids cleared himself a spot on the berth and leaned back to let Swerve toss a dropcloth over his lap and set a box of unpainted flügans next to him. “Does anybody else know about these?”

“Nope, just us.”

“Then it’s going to be fun seeing their faces when you tell them about how flügans change colors.”

Swerve grinned. “Yeah. Y’know, as a flüganologist, I’ve made a study of flügans…”

 

_\---Meanwhile… ---_

 

Rodimus turned the corner and his jaw dropped. He ducked back and pressed himself against the wall and craned his head around the doorway. He blinked, on the verge of fully resetting his optics, because there was no _way_ he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Because what he thought he was seeing was that psych-bot (Rang? It was--no, it was _Rung._ He kicked himself for forgetting.) and _Megatron._ Specifically, he thought he was seeing Rung kneeling on Megatron’s shoulder, bracing himself with a hand against the ex-warlord’s helm and fixing strings of lights to the ceiling, against a background of gentle holiday music.

He blinked again. Yep, they were still there. So that was happening.

He pulled back and tried to consider his options. He _could_ rush in there right now to confront them. Or he could wait and force Megatron to admit his involvement out loud. Which would be a lot more satisfying. And _boring._

No. He could totally wait. He could.

So Rodimus slipped away to set up an ambush on the bridge, where they’d be alone, and where Megatron had nowhere to hide.

He grinned. Oh yeah, this was going to be good.

\---

Megatron strode onto the bridge. “I received your comm. What do you want?”

Rodimus sprang out of the captain’s chair and nearly skipped over to him, trying to sling an arm around his shoulders. He dodged and Rodimus’s arm fell across his hips instead. Megatron jolted forward like he’d been shocked.

He folded his arms and fixed his co-captain with a powerful glare. “And what exactly is the meaning of this?”

Rodimus grinned. “Megsy, Megs, Megs… and here I thought you wanted _nothing_ to do with the holidays. Why didn’t you tell me you got involved? Too embarrassed?”

The glare slid right off his face and was replaced with a smirk. “Who do you think helped clear it with Ultra Magnus?”

The answer was Rung, of course. But Megatron wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to work an uncomfortable situation to his own advantage.

His optics widened. “No way. You… you were in on it the whole time?”

It was a long shot, but maybe… “Whose idea do you think it was?”

Megatron let out a quiet snort of amusement at the look on Rodimus’s face. It looked like his jaw was in danger of actually detaching itself from the rest of him.

“Unbelievable! Just wait until Drift hears about--”

“Because he will, of course, believe you.”

Rodimus yelled. Megatron showed himself off the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the delay, guys! I had to put up own tree (and let me tell you, that's a lot harder without a holomatter projector) and paint my flügans.
> 
> By the way, a flügan is just a painted pumpkin, if you hadn't guessed. When we can, my family makes them, but it was my dad who slapped the name "Scandawhovanian holiday flügans" on them, so credit where credit is due! You can see this year's flügans [right here](https://lordstarscrearn.tumblr.com/post/168720855088/a-little-fl%C3%BCgan-fun-with-the-bots-aka)!
> 
> This chapter wasn't proofread as thoroughly as it probably should have been, so if you see any errors, feel free to point them out! As always, any comments are greatly appreciated.


	5. I Saw Psych-Bot Kissing Megatron!

“There’s no way.”

“He said it himself!”

Drift sighed. “Rodimus, he said ‘Whose idea do you think it was?’ which means it wasn’t his idea. I believe  _ you. _ It’s  _ Megatron _ I doubt.”

He huffed and folded his arms. “Okay, so if it’s not him, who is it?”

“I don’t know.” He stealthily checked the chrono. He was running late, which meant that any minute… “You could ask Nightbeat, he likes mysteries.”

“That’s an understatement. You know what? Maybe I will. Since you’re not interested. Catch you later.”

Rodimus left as Ratchet pinged Drift’s private comm.  **::** Everything okay? You coming? **::**

**::** Yes, just a minute. I got held up with Rodimus. **::**

Ratchet snorted inelegantly.  **::** Need an escape route? **::**

**::** No, he just left. I’ll be right there. **::**

He left in something of a hurry, heels tap-tap-tapping against the floor. He needed to get there before Ratchet found out, or there’d be no chance of tearing him away from the medibay or his habsuite for the next week.

Drift nodded a greeting to First Aid, who was on his way out, and slid into the medibay. He found Ratchet on the far side tidying up and sidled over to him.

“Sorry, Drift, but you still can’t sneak up on me.”

Drift jumped and let out a quiet whine of disappointment. “What gave me away?”

“This.” Ratchet gestured with the tray he was cleaning. “Saw you coming. That, and I know how long it takes you to get here.”

He slumped over the medic’s shoulder as he put away the last of his tools. “I’ll try harder next time.”

“And it still won’t work,” Ratchet replied, fondly bumping his cheek against one of Drift’s finials. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you. Something fun.”

Ratchet eyed him but didn’t pull away. “This isn’t another one of your healing light things, is it?”

“Nope. Ratchet, it’s the holidays. A little time off.”

“Is this another of Rodimus’s bright ideas?”

“No, Swerve and Rung are behind it.”

He snorted. “Swerve and  _ Rung?  _ Says who?”

“Swerve, mostly. I ran into him and Skids in the hallway with… I think he said they were called floogans. The point is, you’re coming with me.”

“I am?”

“Yes!” Drift removed himself from Ratchet’s shoulder and folded his arms. “You’ve been saying I need to engage more with the crew after… everything that’s happened. But so do you. So we’re going to go together.”

“I--”

“Please?”

That was all it took. “Alright, fine. We’ll go together.”

“Thank you, Ratchet. Now, they haven’t released a schedule yet, but…”

\---

Rodimus did not go to Nightbeat. This was one mystery he was going to solve himself.

Now, where would Megatron be going? To gloat, obviously, about how he had successfully confused Rodimus. 

Which meant Rodimus was heading back to Swerve’s too.

\---

“I thought you said you were taking a break, Rung.”

Rung turned and smiled at his voice. “And I thought you said you were going to be a while.”

“I thought I was. It’s hard to tell with Rodimus.” Megatron sank down onto the barstool next to Rung, one hand resting lightly against his shoulder. “What are you reading?”

“Magnus’s spare copy of the Autobot code. I told him I wanted to make sure our plans fall within regulations.”

“And do they?”

“So far, yes. I’m only about halfway done with the list.”

“Would you rather I leave you to it?”

“Oh, no, you’re welcome to stay.” Rung smiled up at him. “I enjoy your company.”

\---

It almost looked romantic, but there was no fragging way it was, because Rodimus doubted Megatron could actually feel an emotion like that, and that nerdy psych-bot wouldn't know a pick-up line (or  _ anything _ more intimate, for that matter) if it walked up and punched him.

Rung’s private comm line pinged.

**::** Don’t look now, but we have an audience. Rodimus. **::**

Rung sighed.  **::** Oh, dear. I thought it was his shift. **::**

**::** It is, but when is he ever where he’s supposed to be? **::** Megatron smirked.  **::** What do you say, Rung? Shall we give him a little lesson for being nosy? **::**

**::** That depends. What did you have in mind? **::**

A moment later, Rodimus’s optics clicked to the widest setting as Rung reached up and brushed his hand along Megatron’s jaw. That hand guided his helm down and at the end Rung pushed himself up and placed a kiss against Megatron’s lip plates. When they glanced up, Rodimus had vacated the doorway and they could hear the faint sounds of rapid pedesteps from down the hall.

“He’s off to tell Drift, no doubt,” Megatron remarked.

“Do you think Drift will believe him?”

The co-captain snorted. “Even if he does, Drift isn’t the sort to gossip.”

“But Rodimus might be.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?”

Rung considered it for a moment and shook his head. “No. The crew was bound to find out eventually. What about you? Are you uncomfortable with it?”

Megatron smiled. “Not at all. In fact…” He pressed a kiss to the crest of Rung’s helm. “I couldn’t be happier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's a bit late, guys! I'll try to get another chapter uploaded in a bit here to make up for it. And I'll be focusing less on Rung and Megatron in the upcoming chapters. I just had a lot of idea I wanted to use for them ;w;
> 
> As always, any comments are greatly appreciated!


	6. All I Want for Christmas

“I’m telling you, something’s off!” Nightbeat paced back and forth in front of an attentive Nautica. “Swerve’s up to something, and it’s not Crewditions this time.”

“Have you asked him about it?”

“No, I can’t do that. He doesn’t know that I suspect, and I don’t want to give it away.”

“Well, c’mon.” Nautica hopped up and steered Nightbeat towards the door. “Let’s go look around Swerve’s bar. He won’t be there, it’s his off shift.”

As they headed out, Nautica asked, “So what do you think Swerve’s up to, anyway?”

“Whatever it is, it won’t be anything too bad. He’s not a schemer, just a planner.”

“That’s true, Swerve isn’t the type to do anything underhanded. Though I heard he once glued Tailgate to his recharge slab.”

“Really? How’d he manage that?”

“Dunno. It was just something I heard in passing. I couldn’t stop to ask.”

They grew quiet as they approached the bar. All was quiet inside, and the lights were off. 

“Alright, no one’s in,” Nightbeat whispered. “Time to move.”

He slipped into the bar with Nautica hot on his heels. Nothing was obviously out of place at first, but a closer look revealed lumpy, spherical objects with stems on about half of the tables.

Nautica scooped up the nearest one, turning it over in her hands. “What are these things? I’ve never seen anything like them before.” 

Nightbeat swiped it from her in a flutter of glitter. “Ugh, it’s shedding. Is this organic?”

“Careful with the stem!” She stole it back and held it up in front of her optics. “You know, I think this thing’s been painted!”

Swerve coughed. “Uh… what are you two doing?”

Nautica shrieked, throwing the thing into the air in her panic. It sailed through the air with four sets of optics on it, until Skids shoved the box under his arm and sprang forward to catch it. He passed it to Swerve, who stuck it back on the table it had come from.

“What  _ are _ those things?”

“Scandawhovanian holiday  flügans,” Skids replied, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “They’re from earth.”

Nightbeat let out a “ha!” of triumph. “I knew they were organic!”

“But you still haven’t said why you’re here.” Swerve gave them a suspicious look. “Did Rodimus send you?”

“Nope,” Nautica replied brightly, much to Nightbeat’s horror. “We were trying to figure out what you were up to. So, what  _ are _ you up to?”

Skids and Swerve shared a look.

“Holiday planning,” Swerve finally said. “We’re still setting up. Things’ll really get going next week.”

“Need a hand with anything? We’ve got four.”

“Well, we still need someone to handle the gift exchange--”

“Ooh, gift exchange? Sounds like fun, I’m in!”

“Nautica…”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! Especially trying to match people with good gift-givers. And I’ll need a good investigator to help me with that…” She shot him a winning smile.

Nightbeat knew exactly what she was doing. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t sold. “Alright, I’ll help.”

She clapped her hands together. “Great! Er… what do we need to do?”

“Just make sure everyone’s paired off with someone else,” Swerve explained. “And have a backup or two! Some people are probably going to want to opt out of giving or receiving. Mostly just don’t tell people who they’re getting a gift from, we want it to be a surprise. Everyone will have until the last day to get a gift ready and then we’ll do a whole big gift exchange.”

“So don’t pair up anyone who’ll start a fight, gotcha. When do you want the list by?”

“Uh, when’s the soonest you can do that?”

Nightbeat grinned. “We’ll start right away.”

\---

“What do you think, should we pair Ultra Magnus and Rodimus?”

Without hesitation, Nightbeat replied, “Absolutely.”

“Seriously?” Nautica looked up from the list. “I was expecting you to say no.”

“Rodimus will get him something ridiculous and Ultra Magnus gets to step out of his shell trying to find something for the captain. Besides, Ultra Magnus is probably the least likely to be upset by one of Rodimus’s gag gifts.”

“That’s true. Okay, what about Cyclonus and Whirl? How far apart do you think we need to keep them?”

“Hm… let Cyclonus get something for Whirl, but let Whirl get something for Tailgate. He’ll put some thought into it.”

“Brainstorm obviously needs to get something for Perceptor--”

“Mhm.”

“--But what about Megatron? I don’t know a single bot on this list who’d be likely to actually include him.”

Nightbeat didn’t have to think long about it. “Match him with Rung. They’ll already be planning on getting each other something."

Nautica’s optics shot wide. “Really? Megatron doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Oh yes, they’re together.”

“I knew it,” Swerve muttered from across the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay full disclosure, before yesterday I hadn’t been able to touch MTMTE in about a month, and I stopped right around the Dark Cybertron arc. A friend of mine made a couple of pretty nasty comments that basically killed my ability to enjoy the comics, and I just couldn’t bring myself to keep reading. But I really wanted to be able to bring you guys some new characters, and it was that that ultimately helped me get through it. So I wanted to thank everyone who’s read this for helping me enjoy the comics again. You guys mean the world to me, and not just for that! <3
> 
> As always, any comments are greatly appreciated!


	7. Mistlefoe

In the end, no one backed out. Everyone was getting (and giving!) at least one gift, Swerve was having the time of his life thinking up names for all the new drinks, and the garland stayed up the entire week.

Rodimus didn’t tell _everyone_ he’d seen Rung and Megatron kissing in Swerve’s, but he did tell Drift, who immediately told Ratchet, who laughed and proclaimed that it was “about damn time.” Drift reluctantly agreed that either Megatron and Rung were _very_ committed to the joke they were playing on Rodimus, or they were in fact in a relationship, which meant Megatron might have been telling the truth about his involvement. Ultimately, it was the almost plating-rattling laugh the information provoked from Ratchet that convinced him.

They kicked the festivities off the first night by cramming most of the crew into Swerve’s for the Ornament Festival, as Swerve had taken to calling it. As captain, the honor fell to Rodimus to hang the first ornament, and he did so in true Rodimus fashion--by taking to the ladder and giving a brief speech, formally naming the tree the “Best Tree on the Lost Light” and crowning it with a Rodimus Star.

Once he climbed down, Swerve opened it up to everyone else, inviting them to bring something to hang on the tree. After the Oh-Dear-There’s-A-Tree-On-Tailgate Incident, they’d reinforced it, but he was still advising caution. By the end of the night, most people had contributed something.

Nautica hung a small wrench in the branches. Drift added a cluster of crystals that he swore had calming effects. Ratchet rolled his eyes where Drift couldn’t see him and added a pair of medical crosses. On the back of each, in tiny, neat lettering, was inscribed “In memory of the ones we lost.”

Cyclonus scooped Tailgate up so the mini could place both their ornaments on the tree, a small brightly-colored bauble and a musical note. Whirl added a little gun after swearing up, down, and sideways and promising that it was only a model and wasn’t loaded. Swerve added a small collection of ridiculous repurposed shot glasses to the lower branches and when no one was looking, Megatron gave Rung a hand getting a miniature model of the Lost Light onto the right branch. Theirs wasn’t the only ship; soon after, Nightbeat hung up a little UFO with the traditional saucer shape. Skids added a fake brain module with the memory centers scribbled over, and when the laughter died down, added a red-and-white vehicle to the lower branches, near the shot glasses.

Even Ultra Magnus got involved, nestling an Autobot badge into the side of the tree.

\---

The next night, Swerve added a little plant to the ceiling, in the center of the room, and cleared the tables away from under it. It was a sweet idea to spread a little holiday cheer--or would have been, if several members of the crew hadn’t heard “mistlefoe” instead of “mistletoe.”

Whirl was not the first to hear “mistlefoe” and come to the conclusion that if two people ended up under it together, they had to fight. He would not be the last.

But frag it all, Whirl _was_ going to fight Cyclonus--with an audience.

His stakeout began at a nearby table, with him nursing a glass of something strong and his optic focused with laser-like intensity on the doors. Bots came and went, but there was still no sign of Cyclonus. Until…

Yes! There he was! Now was his chance!

He sprang forward, only to hear, “Oh, pardon me, Whirl,” from a bot he’d nearly bowled over. His optic shot wide and he forced himself to look down. Rung came into view, smiling.

 _Aw, slag…_ Out of all the bots on the ship, why did it have to be Eyebrows?

But Rung just kept smiling like he wasn’t going to have to fight Whirl and held out a small wrapped object--some kind of candy, no doubt. Whirl cautiously took it and read the attached tag.

Eyebrows had clearly written it himself. The lettering was neat, but several characters had an almost flowery curl to them. ‘ _A kiss for you!’_ promised the tag.

Rung smiled and offered him a “Happy holidays” before moving on.

Whirl’s optic blinked off and on again. Mistlefoe… and a kiss? A dimly remembered moment slammed into him, growing clearer as it went. Not “mistlefoe” but “mistle _to_ _e_ ,” and you weren’t supposed to fight, you were supposed to kiss…

And he was still standing under it.

A pointy finger tapped his shoulder. When he turned, Cyclonus moved the finger to the underside of his helm and tipped it, pressing an almost friendly kiss to the flat side. Whirl was too stunned to reply immediately, and Cyclonus made good use of the silence.

“If you wanted to get me under the mistletoe, you should have just asked.”

As he walked away, Whirl distinctly heard Tailgate patter up to Cyclonus and say, “I’m so proud of you! He was talking about meeting you all day.”

\---

“Ratchet, you promised,” Drift cajoled, pushing the medic out by the shoulders.

“I did. I said nothing about letting you manhandle me out of my own medibay!”

Drift stopped pushing. “So…?”

Ratchet sighed, affectionately shooing him off. “I’m coming.”

Swerve’s was busy when they arrived, but not so busy that the patrons didn’t notice when Ratchet and Drift drew close to the mistletoe. Conversations quieted in anticipation.

Ratchet spared a glance upward to check his positioning and paused, bringing Drift to a halt as well.

“Ratch? You ok--mmf!”

Ratchet caught him up, leaned him back over one arm, and planted a kiss on him.

The bar cheered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just a few more chapters to go now! Thanks to everyone who's been reading this--you guys are awesome, I really can't thank you enough.
> 
> As always, any comments are greatly appreciated!


	8. Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

The third day brought Couples’ Holiday Sleepover Movie Night, And By That We Mean You’re Welcome To Come And Cuddle With Your Significant Other(s), to Swerve’s. Out of necessity, it was shortened to Holiday Sleepover Movie Night.

It took movie night for Rewind to get involved, and by extension, Chromedome. They made their way to the bar, where Swerve was in the process of replacing about half the tables and chairs with comfier seating arrangements--sleeping bags, blankets, and piles of pillows. He looked up at the pair’s approached and positively beamed when he saw who it was.

“Hey, Rewind, Chromedome! Good to see you out of your habs. What can I do for you?”

Rewind waved. “Is it too late to sign up for the movie night?”

“Not at all! We’ve got some lined up--but are you watching or playing?”

“I can play them.”

“Awesome. It’ll be nice to have you back, people have been missing you. I’ll set you up center stage like usual. Is that okay?”

Rewind glanced up at Chromedome, who nodded, and back down to Swerve. “Good by us.”

\---

Drift thought for sure he and Ratchet were going to be the last ones there, but they were two of the first to arrive. Swerve and Skids were already there, as were Rewind and Chromedome, and it looked like Rodimus had managed to drag Ultra Magnus into it as well.

Tailgate and Cyclonus were the next through the door, with Tailgate pulling him along to a nice spot near the front so he could sit in his lap and still see. When Whirl picked his way into the room, Tailgate sat up and waved him over. 

Cyclonus stiffened. “Tailgate, I thought the mistletoe was going to be the last of it.”

“Just this once?” Tailgate turned his helm, snuggling against his chest plates. “Cyclonus, for me?”

He relented almost immediately. “Alright.”

“Thank you!” Tailgate popped his helm back up and waved at Whirl again. “Over here!”

Whirl slunk over to them. “Yeah?”   


“Did you come with anyone? If not, you can join us!”

“Uh,” Whirl replied eloquently. “Yeah. Slag. Sure, why not.” He slowly folded himself down and claimed a spot, shooting Cyclonus a look that said “I’m only here because your little marshmallow asked me to be, so don’t try anything stupid.”

A little ways away, Drift pushed at Ratchet’s shoulder. “Do you think I should try to send them an aura of calming energy?”

Ratchet snorted. “I think they’ll do just fine with Tailgate.”

Right before the movie started, Rung slipped into the back of the bar, fingers light against Megatron’s, leading him into the room. The lights were dimmed and they went fairly unnoticed.

“Thank you for agreeing to do this,” Rung murmured, smoothing his thumb over Megatron’s.

“It was time.”

They claimed a pair of pillows at the very back and Rung settled in on his knee so he could actually see as the movie started. 

Their view was very abruptly blocked by Rodimus.

“Sit down,” Megatron hissed. “You’re making a scene.”

Rodimus dropped himself down next to him. “First kissing in Swerve’s, now cuddling at movie night? Megsy, Megs, Megs, I didn’t think you had it in you!”

Rung felt his courtmate’s leg stiffen under him and gave the metal a comforting rub before turning to Rodimus. “I assure you, he does. And since we’re here, we’d very much like to enjoy it. So if you would, please, Captain?” He made a polite shooing gesture.

Rodimus slumped. “It’s not fair that you two get all the loving.”

“Ultra Magnus is right over there,” Rung pointed out, settling back against Megatron’s chest.

He brightened. “That’s true,” he replied, and bounced away to hang off of Ultra Magnus’s arm.

\---

Skids and Swerve disappeared behind the bar before the first movie was halfway over. Swerve had hidden several of the finest pillows and a short stack of the best blankets back there. While Skids unfolded them, Swerve fished out the bottle of high-grade he’d been saving. They turned back to each other at exactly the same moment.

“I--um--” Wow, Skids was  _ really _ close to him, wasn’t he? Swerve let out a nervous giggle.

Skids smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad you had this idea.”

He could feel heat rising off his facial plates. “Yeah. M-me too.”

Skids held out his hand for the bottle and twisted off the cap as Swerve settled down against him. “And you’re sure you wouldn’t rather be out there watching the movie?”

Swerve grinned. “I’m perfectly happy right where I am.”

\---

By the middle of the second movie, Tailgate was having a hard time keeping his optics online. Every so often, he’d sit up with a start and mutter, “Still awake! I’m still awake,” like he was afraid Cyclonus would carry him off to bed the instant he fell asleep.

But all he did was run a clawed hand over Tailgate’s helm. “You can sleep, little one.”

“Okay…”

He was out in seconds.

Cyclonus almost whined and buried his face in one hand. Whirl shot him a look.

A while later, Tailgate shifted and took hold of Cyclonus’s hand before curling back up. Cyclonus made a noise like a very quiet kettle boiling over. Seconds later something bumped against his hip plating and he reached for a greatsword that wasn’t there.

“Relax, Stabby,” Whirl muttered sleepily, easing Tailgate’s tiny little foot aside so he could put his helm on Cyclonus’s knee. “ ‘s just me.”

Cyclonus bit down the urge to kick him off. He couldn’t wake Tailgate. 

“Y’know,” Whirl mumbled right before he fell asleep, “you’re not that bad. F’r an asshole.”

\---

Halfway through the third movie, the feed cut out entirely. There was a quiet rumble of protest from the few people still awake.

“You’ll have to wait,” Chromedome called back, gathering Rewind into his arms and leaning back among the pillows. The minibot shifted and plucked at the blanket he draped over him. “He’s asleep.”

One look convinced them they didn’t mind very much at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Cranky_Tanky for the idea for this chapter, and for essentially beta reading it for me as I went along! After this, I'm planning one or two more chapters, depending on how things go.
> 
> As always, any comments are greatly appreciated!


	9. All I Want For Christmas (Reprise)

It wasn’t obvious, but Ultra Magnus, the ex-Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, was having a bit of a panic. He’d drawn Rodimus in the gift exchange, and after some hesitation, he’d accepted. 

He was now regretting that decision. The whole  _ point _ of the gift exchange was that it was a secret. You weren’t supposed to know who your gift-giver was. Which left Ultra Magnus in a bit of a bind.

What was he supposed to get for Rodimus that wasn’t immediately obvious as something he’d gotten?

He toyed with several ideas--things Rodimus needed but wouldn’t want or wouldn’t use, and a number of things he was sure would be too obvious--before discarding them all. There were only a few more days until the exchange. Ultra Magnus was running out of time, and fast. 

The problem was that at this point it was too late to shuffle Rodimus off onto someone else, someone who would actually know what to get him. Someone like--

Ultra Magnus’s eyes lit up and he commed Drift.

\---

Getting called into Ultra Magnus’s office--whatever the reason--tended to not be a very pleasant experience. It certainly wasn’t for Drift, despite the knowledge that Ultra Magnus simply wanted to ask him a question. He pinged him, waited for acknowledgement, and stepped into the office.

Ultra Magnus gestured to the chair across the incredibly well-organized desk from him. “Have a seat, Drift.”

Drift sat.

“As you know, Swerve has been organizing holiday celebrations.”

He blinked. “If this is about the fake snow, sir, I have no idea how it got into the medibay.”

“Fake--? No, I will deal with that later. Drift, what I am about to tell you must not leave this room. I have been assigned as the captain’s gift-giver. As Rodimus’s gift-giver.”

Drift bit the inside of his lip to muffle a laugh.

“What sort of gift would he appreciate?”

“An art pad,” Drift replied immediately. “Or a sketch pad. He’ll like it, and it might stop him scribbling on the tables.”

“You seem to have already considered this.”

“Well, when I heard Swerve was planning a gift swap, I figured they’d try to match me with Rodimus. It’s what I was going to get him.”

Ultra Magnus dipped his head. “Thank you for your help, Drift. How are you and Ratchet enjoying the holidays?”

He grinned at the memory of the squawk Ratchet had let out when he saw the fake snow cluttering up his medibay. “We’re enjoying them.”

“That’s good to hear.” He rose, and Drift followed suit. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to  _ be _ back, sir.”

\---

_ “Whirl?” _ Cyclonus had said. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” Nautica had replied. “You’d be the only person to refuse. Besides, Whirl isn’t going to know it’s from you, unless you tell him.”

Cyclonus had reluctantly agreed, but he’d made it clear to Nautica just how reluctantly. Of course, that was before the mistletoe incident, and movie night. Both of those were technically Tailgate’s fault, but he wasn’t inclined to blame the little bot. But once again, he found himself in the position of needing to do something for Whirl. And he had no idea what to give him.

What did you get someone like Whirl? He didn’t seem to care about personal possessions, beyond weapons, and Cyclonus couldn’t very well hand him a sword for the holidays. 

Or… perhaps he could. With a little repair… yes, that would do nicely.

\---

Skids had known he was going to pull Swerve’s name the minute Nautica and Nightbeat walked up to him and offered him the box.

He glanced down, saw the bartender’s name, and grinned. “So, do they all say Swerve?”

“Told you he’d figure it out,” Nightbeat muttered.

“Nope, only about half of them do. The other half say Cyclonus.”

“You know, you should recommend a music collection to whoever draws him. I’ve heard he’s quite the singer.”

“Really? Alright, we’ll pass it along.”

He already had a good idea of what to get Swerve. Since he’d been so involved in planning the holidays, he hadn’t had much chance to enjoy them himself. And if Skids remembered correctly, there was an empty set of rooms down on the F Deck and three unused sets of lights in Swerve’s back room.

\---

Ratchet drew Drift’s name and snorted.

Nightbeat tipped his head. And he’d been so sure that would be a good choice! “Something wrong?”

“No, it’s just that I already know exactly what to get him.”

He’d known saving that crystal would pay off sooner or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy.... i was planning on getting the final two chapters up today, but unfortunately I've had a little too much holiday cheer of my own to get more than one chapter up today. So the final chapter will go up tomorrow!
> 
> If I've made any mistakes, please point them out! And as always, any comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Oh, and merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates, and happy Monday to everyone who doesn't!


	10. The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

The next few days were all abuzz with holiday cheer and even more last-minute gift-getting. And every night there was something different happening at Swerve’s, whether it was an Ugly Holiday Paint-Job Competition or an open mic night that surprisingly didn’t end in a bar fight, though Ultra Magnus’s presence might have helped.

The final night of festivities arrived. Earlier that day, everyone had brought their gifts, wrapped and tagged, to Swerve’s and placed them under the tree and the watchful eyes of Nightbeat and Nautica.

The bar was packed that night. Nautica and Nightbeat, Swerve’s Duly Appointed Holiday Helpers, were in charge of handing out the gifts. 

Ultra Magnus arrived promptly when the event started, and before he could protest, Nautica skipped over and pressed a clumsily-wrapped box into his hands. 

“From your gift-giver.” She grinned. “Happy holidays!”

He dipped his helm. “Happy holidays.”

He took the box over to a corner table, but before he could open it, he received a notification ping. Fishing out his datapad told him he’d actually received half a dozen notifications, all at the same time, and all from Rodimus. He tapped on the first one.

To his surprise, it opened a fully completed report, with no spelling or grammatical errors, well laid out, with exactly the information the report required. Rodimus had even remembered to set the margins to the appropriate width to make it easier to read. Ultra Magnus paged through it, made a quiet noise of satisfaction, and tabbed out to check the other five notifications.

They were all reports. They were all complete, with the same attention to detail as the first one. His mouth almost smiled. His optics definitely did. 

Rodimus dropped himself into the chair opposite him and set a meticulously wrapped package on the table. “Are you gonna read reports all night, or are you going to open the rest of your present?”

“So you are my gift-giver. I believe the point of this was that it was supposed to remain a secret.”

Rodimus grinned, widely and nervously. “Oops?”

“Why don’t you open yours first?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice; if the wrinkling at one corner was anything to go by, he’d already had to stop himself from ripping off the paper.

The paper was gone in seconds and the box didn’t last much longer. Soon Rodimus was flipping over a new datapad designed for drawing and practically crowing in excitement. “Oh, man. This--this is awesome. I love it.”

This time, Ultra Magnus did smile. It was faint, but it was there.

“Okay.” Rodimus set the pad down, fingers still dancing in joy. “Your turn.”

Ultra Magnus carefully detached the paper from the box and opened it, tipping the contents into his palm. He looked from the music discs--Earth crooners, mostly--to Rodimus.

“How did you know?”

Rodimus grinned. “Hey, sometimes I listen.”

\---

When Swerve found the time to take a break, he hopped over to retrieve his present from Nightbeat.

“Careful, it’s fragile,” Nightbeat warned him as he handed it over.

“Thanks!” He beamed. “And happy holidays!”

He took it back to the relative calm of the bar to open it. Inside he found two more packages, one wrapped, one unwrapped. He opened the bare package first.

Inside was a full set of glasses for the bar, each engraved with “Swerve’s” and a small flourish along the side. Swerve had to stop and vent for a moment with a hand over his mouth before he could unwrap the second present.

When he switched on his new datapad of drink recipes (and to be honest, even he hadn’t heard of some of these) it flashed a quick message at him, the equivalent of a note scribbled in the margins: ‘One more!’

Swerve glanced back into the box and discovered that there was indeed one more item inside it: a miniature datapad, meant for notes and quick messages. It contained only one line.

_ Meet me in 24B on F Deck after you close the bar for your last present. <3 _

\---

On the opposite side of the bar, Megatron and Rung had also tucked themselves into a corner booth with their respective presents.

Megatron tipped his head and made a slight wave with the tips of his fingers. “After you.”

Rung only had it half unwrapped when he stopped and started laughing.

“What’s wrong?”

Still chuckling, he waved the concern away. “Nothing at all. But I think--I really think you should open yours.”

Confused, but not willing to protest, Megatron did. The instant he saw the title of the datapad, he knew exactly why Rung was laughing--and exactly who his gift-giver was.

He groaned and dropped his head into his hand. “I can’t believe we got each other the same thing.”

By that point, Rung had to lift his glasses and brush away a few drops of optical cleanser before he set the poetry collection back on the table. “I think it’s wonderful. We’ll have to compare notes some time. But--there’s something else in yours.”

“And in yours.”

Megatron was the first to slide out the second datapad. This one was empty, and formatted like a journal. The casing was hand-painted in a gentle grey with dark blue accents and had a silvered inscription along the bottom:  _ For Megatron, for different words. _

“Same title, different words,” he murmured. His gaze flicked back up. “You remembered that.”

Rung smiled. “Of course I did.”

He briefly returned the smile. “Thank you. I believe it’s your turn again.”

He slid the second item out of the wrapping and turned it over. His thumb ghosted over the simple “for Rung, for everything” printed along the bottom edge of the datapad. When he switched it on, it displayed an equally simple message:  _ For Rung of the Pious Pools, a mech I will always remember. _

“My collected post-war musings,” Megatron explained. “You expressed an interest some time ago, so…”

This time the tears at the corners of his optics had nothing to do with laughter. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

\---

A few tables away Ratchet let out a snort of laughter as he unearthed his gift from the protective wrapping that held it. It was a miniature red-orange hand, fixed by a thin rod to a flat base with the words “Need a hand?” written across it.

“Drift, I know this is from you, you irreverent slagger!”

Drift snickered, wide grin mirroring Ratchet’s own. “It’ll look great on your desk in the medibay.”

“Shut up and open yours already.”

He tossed the paper (“Oh, look, red and white! It matches your hand!”) aside and popped open the small box. Nestled inside was a cluster of crystals that glittered calmly in the light of the bar, casting reflections around the room as Drift turned it.

“Ratchet, this is… wow.”

“Think you can find a use for that?”

“Absolutely.” Drift smiled. “I love it.”

\---

Chromedome tipped his helm down towards his conjunx. “Are you getting shots for the archive?”

“Sort of. Mostly they’re for me.” Rewind nudged the package in front of Chromedome. “And this part’s definitely for me. Come on, I want to see your face when you open it.”

“What about yours?”

He waved it away. “I’ll get it in a bit.”

“If you’re sure…” Chromedome opened it to find an album of photos. Every single one of them had him and Rewind as the focal point. Some of them had clearly been cropped from larger shots, producing several very candid (and often ridiculous) shots.

Chromedome tapped one of the sillier ones. “I remember that. Didn’t I trip?”

Rewind nodded. “Over your own feet.” He pointed to the next image, which featured a blurry but clearly surprised Chromedome halfway to the ground and a Rewind in a similar position. “And you took me down with you.”

“That wasn’t too long after we met.”

“Neither was this one.”

The shot in question was of Rewind curled into Chromedome’s lap, helm tipped back to look up at him. Chromedome had one arm tucked around Rewind’s side and was using the other to illustrate whatever story he was telling.

Rewind looked up at him. “Do you remember it?”

“I’ll never forget it.”

\---

Nautica handed a long slim package over to Whirl. “Oh, be careful with it. Happy holidays!”

“Yeah, happy holidays.”

Whirl had thought wrapping a box with a pair of claws was hard, but getting the wrapping off an object wasn’t any easier. It ended up mostly shredded, but at least it was off. He gave the box a little shake, tipping his helm to the side to listen. No rattling.

There were a couple of little tabs along the side that made the box a lot easier to open with claws. He popped it open and out rolled…

A sword. An entire, honest-to-Primus sword. If he had a mouth, he’d be grinning. It looked mostly ornamental, and had the mounting included to prove it, but it was still a sword. Whirl grabbed onto the hilt and lifted it up for a closer look, confirming his suspicions. It was weighted and modified to be handled by someone without, well, hands.

His optic narrowed and curved up, betraying his excitement as he turned to watch Tailgate happily display a small timepiece to Cyclonus. Even at a distance, he could hear the minibot’s excitement.

Yeah, the holidays weren’t so bad after all.

\---

The party stretched on for hours. By closing time, most of the crew had been in and out at least once, and Swerve suspected that many would go on to finish up their own little parties in private. But not Skids; Skids had stuck around to help him clean up and close up.

“So, got any big evening plans?” Skids asked as he finished wiping down the last section of the surface of the bar.

Swerve shrugged. “Not really. I’m supposed to be meeting someone on F Deck after I close up, though. So thanks for your help.”   


“Something from your gift-giver? Did they say what for?”

“No, just to meet them. Why, you think something’s up?”

“Nah. But… will you let me walk you there?”

He beamed. “Sure.”

\---

Skids glanced down at Swerve, who’d become positively jittery since leaving the bar. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Just excited. Bit nervous.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be good. Just try to relax, be yourself!”

Swerve laughed. “You make it sound like I’m going on a blind date!”

“I mean…”

He pushed at his hip. “Oh, stop.”

By the time they reached F Deck, Swerve had gone quiet again, but his optics were bright with anticipation behind his visor.

“Well, here we are.” Skids got the door for him and hit the switch, filling the room with the gentle glittering glow of the strings of lights he’d borrowed. Quiet music rushed in to fill the silence.

Swerve saw the empty room and wilted despite himself. “Oh… I guess they left already.”

“Nope, they just got here.” Skids stepped into the center of the room and turned back to him, arms wide. “This is from me. I know it’s tough to enjoy the holiday surprises when you’re the one behind them all.”

“Skids…”

“So I figured I’d treat you to a little surprise just for you.”

Swerve’s smile was a little watery and a little wobbly, but it was bright as he stepped closer. “Oh, Skids… this--this is the best thing ever.”

“Oh, there’s one more thing…”

“I thought this was the ‘one more thing’!”

“Well, yeah, but…” Skids grinned and pointed towards the ceiling. “Look up.”

Swerve did, and the instant he looked away from Skids and up toward the mistletoe above them, Skids caught him up in a careful embrace and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final installment is here! I hope it was worth the wait. I know I keep saying this, but I really can't thank you guys enough for all the kind words and kudos you've left on this fic. Each and everyone one of you--everyone who's read this fic or any of my other work--you all mean the absolute world to me. You guys are a huge part of why I keep writing. So stay awesome, stay strong, and have a great rest of the year!


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